XIII
A profound obscurity enveloped the wood of Daphne on all sides. A hotwind was hunting the clouds along. For days not a drop of rain hadfallen on the cracked and arid earth. The laurels were shaking theirblack branches to heaven. The low roar of the cypresses in theirtitanic alleys was like the murmur of a crowd of angry old men.
Two persons were gliding cautiously through the shadow towards theTemple of Apollo. The smaller, who had green eyes like a cat, sawclearly through the night, and was leading the more stalwart by thehand.
"Oh! oh! you scoundrel! we shall break our necks in some ditch!"
"There is no ditch here! What are you afraid of? Since you adopted thenew religion you've become a regular old woman!"
"An old woman!... When I used to hunt the bear my heart had never athrob the quicker! But here ... this isn't a job like that!... Weshall swing for it, side by side, on the same gallows, my boy."
"Nonsense! Be quiet, you great fool!"
The small man again began dragging along the bigger, who carried anenormous truss of hay and a pickaxe.
They arrived at a postern door of the temple.
"Here, use the pick!" muttered the little man, groping with his handsfor cracks in the stone. "And you can cut the cross-timbers with theaxe...."
Suddenly there came a cry, like the complaint of a sick child. Thetall man trembled in all his limbs--
"What is it?"
"The Demon!" exclaimed the little one, his eyes staring with affright,clutching at the clothes of his companion--
"You won't desert me, old fellow?"
"It's an owl!... Well, he can plume himself on having scared us!"
The enormous night-bird, startled from his nest, flew away with asobbing cry.
"Let's give it up," said the tall man. "That will never kindle."
"Why not? The wood's rotten, dry as tinder in the sun, and allworm-eaten.... A single spark will do. Come, work along!"
And the little man shoved the taller.
"Now, push the straw into the hole!... more, more, for the glory ofthe Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost!"
"Why are you fidgeting about like an eel?" said the tall man, inannoyance. "And what is there to laugh at?"
"Ha, ha, ha! What? The angels of heaven must be rejoicing.... Onlyremember, uncle, if we're taken, don't deny what we've done. We'llhave a pretty little blaze!... Here, take the flint and steel!"
"Go to the devil!" answered the other. "You sha'n't tempt me, cursedlittle snake! Pah! Kindle yourself!"
"Ah, you're crying off..." and trembling with rage the little manseized the big man by the beard.
"I'll be the first to denounce you; I shall be believed...."
"Leave me alone, damn you. Give me the flint.... I've had enough ofthis."
The sparks sprang out. The smaller man, for greater comfort, or tocomplete his resemblance to a young snake, laid himself flat on hisstomach. Thin tongues of flame ran through the straw, which had beensoaked in pitch. Thick smoke arose. A mass of flame shone ruddily onthe distressed face of the giant Aragaris, and the monkey-like visageof the little Syrian, Strombix, who began leaping and laughing likeone drunk or mad--
"We'll destroy it all, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!Ho! ho! ho! A pretty little blaze, eh!"
There was something ferocious in his destructive glee.
Aragaris, pointing to the darkness, muttered--
"Don't you hear something?"
Not a soul was in the wood, but the incendiaries, in the roaring ofthe wind and the moaning of the cypresses, imagined that they heardvoices.
Aragaris began to run.
"Take me on your shoulders, comrade! You've long legs."
Aragaris halted; Strombix sprang on the shoulders of the Sarmatianlike a squirrel, and they fled away. The little Syrian dug his kneesinto his companion's ribs, and put his arms round his neck to avoidfalling. In spite of his fear he laughed and shouted with joy. Thepair gained the open field. Between the clouds, the moon in its lastquarter was shining, and the wind roared harshly. Strombix on thegiant's shoulders seemed an evil spirit riding his victim to hell.The idea in fact suddenly struck Aragaris that the Demon, in the shapeof a great cat, was hunting him along with his claws to the abyss. Thegiant made desperate bounds to shake off his burden. The hair bristledon his head, and he yelled with terror. The black, double figure ofthe pair running, stooped towards the dry, hard earth, over thewithered fields, was silhouetted against the pale horizon.
* * * * *
At the same hour, in his chamber in the palace at Antioch, Julian washaving a secret interview with the prefect Sallustius Secundus--
"Where shall we obtain, well-beloved Caesar, the necessary food forsuch an army?"
"I'll send to Sicily, to Egypt, to Apulia, in all directions where theharvests are abundant," answered the Emperor. "I can answer for itthat there will be food enough...."
"And money?" asked Sallustius. "Would it not be better to postponethis campaign till next year? Wait a little?"
Julian strode up and down the room. Suddenly he halted before theother man.
"Wait!" he exclaimed angrily. "One would say the word was a kind ofpass-word, it is repeated to me so often!... Wait? As if it werepossible to wait now, to weigh, vacillate, hesitate! Are the Galileanswaiting? Understand, Senator, I must achieve the impossible; I mustreturn from Persia great and terrible ... or not return at all. Nomore conciliations, or half measures, are possible!... Why speak ofreason? Did the Macedonian Alexander conquer the world by reason--thebeardless young man who, with a mere handful of soldiers, went tofight the monarchs of Asia? Was he not mad, in the sight of reasonablemen like you? What gave him victory?"
"I do not know," responded the prefect evasively. "I suppose thevalour of the hero...."
"No," exclaimed Julian. "The gods! Understand, Sallustius, theOlympians can grant me the same grace, and a greater still, if itplease them. I will cross the world from east to west, like the greatMacedonian, like the god Dionysus. When I come back victorious fromAsia we shall see what the Christians have to say, whether they willmock at the sword of the Roman Emperor as they mock at the plain robeof the philosopher."
His eyes seemed glittering with madness; and Sallustius, seeing thatfurther objection was useless, said nothing. But when Julian began towalk up and down, the prefect shook his head and deep pity wasexpressed in the kindly gaze of the old man.
"The army must be ready to march," continued Julian. "I desire it, doyou hear? I will have no excuses nor delays. Arsaces, the Armenianking, has promised help. There is bread. What more is lacking? I mustknow that I can at any moment set out against the Persians. On thisdepends not only my glory, but the safety of the Roman Empire and thevictory of the gods against the Galileans!..."
The warm wind, blowing into the chamber, agitated the three flames ofthe lampadary. A shooting-star scored the dark blue night-sky andvanished. Julian saw it, and was strangely thrilled.
Outside the door voices were heard. Someone knocked.
"Who is there? Come in!" said the Emperor.
They were his philosopher friends. Libanius, at their head, seemedmore emphatic and sullen than usual.
"What is your desire?" asked Julian coldly.
Libanius knelt, still retaining his arrogant air--
"Let me depart, Augustus. I can no longer endure life at your Court.My patience is exhausted. Every day there is some new insult to put upwith...." and he spoke at length of rewards, the moneys received byhim no longer, of ingratitude in view of his services, and thesplendid panegyrics with which he had glorified Caesar.
But Julian, unheeding, gazed at the celebrated orator with disgust.Could this really be the same Libanius whose speeches he had admiredso much in youth? What baseness! what vanity!
Then all the philosophers began speaking at once. Their voices rose,they mutually accused each other of impiety, debauchery, peculation,repeating the most fatuous scandals. Th
e scene was a petty civil war,not of the wise, but between parasites waxed fat through prosperity,ready to fly at each other's throats through pride, anger, andidleness.
At last the Emperor uttered a word which brought them back to theirsenses--
"Masters!"
All were silenced like so many frightened magpies.
"Masters!" repeated Julian, with bitter irony, "I have heard you longenough. Permit me to relate you a fable: 'An Egyptian king had a setof tame apes, trained to perform a war-dance of Epirus. They werecostumed in helmets and masks; their tails were hidden under theImperial purple, and while they were dancing it was difficult tobelieve they were not human. This spectacle gave general delight foryears. But on one occasion one of the spectators happened to throw onthe stage a handful of nuts! And what happened? The warriors tore offtheir purple and masks, readjusted their tails, dropped on all fours,and began to bite each other.' How do you like my fable, masters?"
Everybody was silent. Suddenly Sallustius took the Emperor by the handand pointed to the open window. Under the sombre masses of clouds areddish light, tossed by a violent wind, seemed slowly spreading.
"Fire! fire!" all present cried.
"On the other side of the river," some suggested.
"No, at Garandama," others cried.
"No, it must be at Gezireh, in the Jew quarter!"
"It's neither at Gezireh nor at Garandama," exclaimed a voice, withthe exultant tone of one in a crowd at sight of a conflagration. "Itis in the wood of Daphne!"
"Apollo's temple!" murmured the Emperor, whose heart was beatingwildly. "The Galileans!" he shouted with a mad voice, rushing to thedoor, then to the staircase.
"Slaves, ... quick! My charger and fifty legionaries!"
In a few moments all was ready. A black colt, trembling all over andwith a dangerous look in his bloodshot eyes, was led into thecourtyard.
Julian rode at a breakneck speed through the streets of Antioch,followed by his legionaries. The crowd scattered in terror beforethem. One man was knocked down and another trampled to death, buttheir cries were drowned by the thunder of hoofs and the clatter ofarms.
The open country was reached. Julian knew not how long the mad galloplasted; three legionaries fell with their foundered horses. The glowbecame brighter and brighter and the smell of smoke perceptible. Thefields with their dusty vegetation assumed a yellowish hue. A curiouscrowd rushed up from every side, like moths to a flame. Julian noticedthe joyousness of their faces, as if they were hurrying to a festival.
Tongues of flame glittered, in thick smoke-clouds, above the wood ofDaphne. The Emperor penetrated into the sacred enclosure. There thecrowd was bellowing, and exchanging pleasantries and laughter.
The calm alleys, abandoned by all for so many years, were swarming.Rioters profaned the wood, broke down branches of ancient laurels,befouled the springs, and trampled on the sleeping flowers. The coolodour of narcissus and lily strove with the stifling heat of the fireand the breath of the people.
"A miracle from God," murmured the crowd gleefully. "I myself sawlightning fall from heaven and kindle the roof!"
"No, thou liest! The earth split in the midst of the temple andvomited flames underneath the idol!"
"'S death!... It was after the abominable order to shift the relics.They thought they could do it without let or hindrance.... Pooh!... Somuch for your Temple of Apollo and prophecy from the sacred spring! Itis a blessing!"
Julian saw in the crowd a woman half-dressed, as if newly risen frombed. With a stupid smile she was wondering at the fire, while cradlingon her arm an infant at the breast. Tears still trembled on theeyelashes of the little one; but he quieted himself sucking vigorouslyat the breast, against which he had propped himself with one hand,while stretching the other towards the flames as if for a newplaything.
The Emperor reined up his horse. Further advance was impossible, byreason of the heat. The legionaries stood awaiting orders. But Juliansaw that the temple was doomed. From base to roof it was enveloped inflames, like an immense brazier. Walls, joists, and carven cross-beamswere falling in, with crash after crash, and whirlwinds of sparksmounted to a sky which came down lower and lower, lurid and menacing.The flames seemed to lick the clouds, struggling against the embracesof the wind and, roaring, flapped like great sails. The laurel leaveswrithed in the heat, and doubled themselves as in torture. The peaksof the cypresses, kindled like huge torches, gave up the smoke ofsacrifice. Drops of resin fell thickly from the centenarian trees, oldas the temple.
Julian gazed haggardly at the fire. He wished to give an order to thelegionaries; but drawing his sword from the scabbard and curbing hisrestive horse, he could only ejaculate impotently between clenchedteeth--"Oh, wretched, wretched people!"
Shouts of the crowd sounded in the distance. Julian recollected thatthe entrance to the treasury was at the back; and the idea occurred tohim that the Galileans were pillaging the wealth of the god.... Hemade a sign, and dashed in that direction, followed by thelegionaries. A melancholy procession brought him to a halt. A fewRoman guards, who had run up in haste from the village of Daphne, werecarrying a rude litter.
"What is it?" asked Julian.
"The Galileans have stoned the priest Gorgius to death."
"And the treasury?"
"It is untouched. Standing on the threshold of the door, the priestdefended the entrance. He never left his post until a stone stretchedhim on the ground. Then they killed the child. The Galilean horde,after trampling them under foot, would have got into the treasury ifwe hadn't arrived in time."
"Is he still alive?"
"Hardly breathing."
The Emperor leapt from his horse. The litter was laid gently down; andJulian stooping, cautiously lifted a corner of the old chlamys of thepriest, which covered both bodies. The old man was stretched withclosed eyes and scarcely heaving breast on a bed of freshlaurel-branches. Julian's heart shook with pity when he saw thered-nosed old drinker, whom he had thought so scandalous a few daysbefore. He remembered the poor goose in the wicker basket, the lastoffering to Apollo. On the snowy hair drops of blood stood likeberries, and laurel leaves enlaced lay in a wreath on the priest'shead.
By his side lay the little body of Hepherion, his cheek resting on hishand. He seemed asleep. Julian thought--
"Such must Eros be, son of the Love-goddess, killed by the stones ofGalileans."
And the Roman Emperor knelt in veneration before the martyrs toOlympus. In spite of the loss of the temple, in spite of the stupidtriumph of the mob, Julian felt in this death the presence of the god.His heart softened; even his hate disappeared, and with humble tearshe kissed the old man's hand. The dying man opened his eyes.
"Where is the child?" he asked under his breath.
"Here, near you."
Julian gently placed the hand of Gorgius on the locks of Hepherion.
"Is he alive?" asked Gorgius, stroking the child's curls for the lasttime. He was so weak that he could not turn his head, and Julian hadnot the courage to reveal the truth.
The priest fixed a suppliant look on the Emperor--
"Caesar! I entrust him to you.... Do not abandon him...."
"Be assured; I will do all that I can for the little one."
So Julian took under his protection one to whom not even a Roman Caesarcould now do good or harm.
Gorgius let his hand remain on the head of Hepherion. Suddenly hisface lighted; he tried to say something, and stammered incoherently--
"Rejoice! Rejoice!"
He gazed before him with eyes wide open, sighed, paused in the midstof the sigh, and his look faded. Julian closed the eyes of the dead.
Suddenly exultant songs were heard. The Emperor wheeled round, and sawa long procession marching down the cypress-alley. A great crowd ofpriests, in dalmatics of cloth of gold covered with precious gems,deacons swinging censers, black monks bearing lighted tapers, virginsand youths clothed in white, children waving palm-branches, and abovethe crowd on a lofty car the relics o
f Babylas, in a glittering silvershrine. They were the relics expelled, by Caesar's orders, from Daphneto Antioch. The expulsion had become a victorious march. The peoplewere singing the ancient Psalm of David glorifying the God of Israel--
"_He is clothed in clouds and darkness!_"
Above the moanings of the wind, and the roarings of the fire, soaredthe triumphant chant of the Galileans to the lurid vault of the sky--
"_Clouds and darkness surround Him, fire tramples out His enemiesbefore Him, and the mountains melt like wax before the face of theLord, the Lord of all the earth!_"
Julian grew pale at the audacity of joy resounding in the last line--
"_Let all those who serve and boast themselves of their idols tremble, And let all gods bow down before Him!_"
The Emperor leapt upon his horse, drew his sword, and shouted--
"Soldiers, follow me!"
He was about to rush in, disperse the triumphant mob, overset theshrine, and scatter the bones of the saint, but a firm hand seized thebridle of his horse--
"Out of the way!" cried Julian furiously, lifting his sword.
Next moment his arm fell. Before him stood the stern, calm face ofSallustius Secundus, who had just arrived from Antioch.
"Caesar, do not strike the unarmed! Be yourself!"
Julian put back his sword in the scabbard.
His helmet scorched his head; he tore it off and flung it to earth,wiping away great drops of sweat. Alone and bareheaded he advancedtowards the crowd, signing them to halt.
"Inhabitants of Antioch," he said almost calmly, restraining himselfby a supreme effort, "know that the rioters, and setters on fire ofthe Temple of Apollo, will be punished without mercy. You scorn mypity? We shall see how you will scorn my anger. The Roman Augustuscould blot your town from the earth, so that men should forget thatAntioch the great ever existed. But I go forth to war against thePersians. If the gods grant that I return in triumph, woe be to you,rioters! Woe to thee, Nazarene, the carpenter's son!"
And he stretched out his sword above the heads of the crowd.
Suddenly he fancied he heard a voice saying--
"The Nazarene, son of the carpenter, makes ready thy shroud!"
Julian thrilled, turned round, but saw no one. He passed his hand overhis eyes. Was it an hallucination? At that moment from the interior ofthe temple came a deafening noise. Part of the roof had fallen on thestatue of Apollo, which reeled from its pedestal. The procession wenton its way, taking up again the Psalm--
"_Let those tremble who serve and boast themselves of their idols, And let all gods of the earth bow down before Him!_"
The Death of the Gods Page 37
